February 26, 2007
Oscar Fug Carpet: Kirsten Dunst
I was endlessly charmed and amused by Kirsten Dunst whipping out from her purse a crumpled copy of a magazine ad in which two M&M candies are impersonating Joan and Melissa, and asking Lady Rivers to autograph it (and then, after digging through the bag and pulling out blister pads for her brother's feet, exposing his secret shame, she went on what we hope was not a fruitless hunt for a pen). The whole piece of tomfoolery only furthered our suspicion here at GFY HQ that Kiki is not only a good sport but probably fun for a night on the town.
Sadly for her, I though, I was neither charmed nor amused by her dress.
I'm a little overwhelmed, to be honest. There is so much happening here. If this were an episode of Deadwood, I would need to watch it twice, once with the subtitles, just to keep up with what the hell that genius Ian McShane is going on about for so long.
For one thing, as ever, I want to hoist her boobs up a tad higher -- look into pulleys, Kirsten, if bras aren't to your tastes. But the rest of it really just makes us wonder if she borrowed this look from a 16-year old Icelandic rodeo clown who is her nation's entry in the Eurovision Song Contest this year. We have the frivolity of feathers contrasted with a prim neckline, and detailing that veers from vertical faux-fringe to the look of creepy tentacles of frost you sometimes see creeping along airplane windows when you fly at a high altitude during the winter. It looks as if it would shatter if she, say, tripped on her feather fireworks and bumped into George Clooney on the... Hey, wait. WAIT A MOMENT. Maybe that is her whole master plan. She's going to slam into Intern George hard enough for her clothes to break and drop off, all in the hope that he'll sweep her off her feet and carry her away in his burly, strapping, medicinal embrace. Clever, Kirsten. Clever. But if he calls in sick tomorrow, we'll know who's responsible, and do you really want to be the reason this one-man hug machine can't do his holy work? Do you? For once, think long and hard, Dunst. And then do the right thing. Listen to whatever instinct possessed you to wear this dress, and do the opposite.